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MORGAN Ptxblishers 

NEW YORK 


CopyrigKt* 1901, by 

GRACE DUFFIE 
BOYLAN 

and 

IKE MORGAN 


CopyrigKt, 1909, by 
HURST fit COMPANY 


Gift 

Publisher 
DtU :-o 1909 



All our little boys and girls wonder how 
^t would be 

If they lived in other lands, across some 
distant sea; 

And over there, in ev’ry land, the children 
say: ^^0 dear! 

How do the children look and play around 
the world from here ? 

And as we beckon eastward, and call them 
from the west. 

And shout: Hello I come over! Our 

playground is the best! 

The little northern children come skating 
on their skees; 

Up troop the merry youngsters from 
southern lands and seas; 

The kids of many colors, hair straight 
and kinked and curled, 

Are just the little people that make the 
httle world. 



Table or Contents 



Germany ... 83 

South Africa^ ... 88 


China . 

9 

Eskimo 

92 

Pygmies . 

. 16 

Gypsies . 

. 95 

La.pla.nd 

19 

Itedy 

98 

Pickaninnies . 

. 21 

India. 

. 103 

Scandinavia 

25 

Russia 

108 

India.ns , 

. 31 

Canada . 

. 112 

Cuba. , . . , 

38 

Egypt 

117 

British 1 

. 41 

Hebrew 

. 121 

Arabia 

54 

Spadn 

127 

Holland . 

. 58 

Greece 

. 132 

Hawedi 

65 

South America 

137 

Mexico 

. 70 

Turkey 

. 140 

France 

74 

Philippines . 

143 

Japan 

. 79 

United States . 

. 146 


Xs;ble or Contents 

LULLABY S 


Chinese 
Lapland 
Cornheld 
Cuban 
English . 

Irish . 

Scotch 
Hawaiian 
French Canadian 


15 
20 

22 

40 

44 

. 47 

53 
67 
116 


MOTHER SONGS 


Hebrew 
Filipino . 
American 


126 

145 

149 










Around the world in China land, 
They have the queerest ways : 
They go to bed when we wake up; 

Our nights are all their days. 
They write a letter up and down, 
Instead of left and right ; 

And put their hats on in the house 
When they are most polite. 




A Chinese man will shake his hand, 
Instead of shaking yo ilrs : 

HeTl play at shuttl^ock,^but use 
His feet for battledores. 

The little boys who go to school. 

Their lessons loudly sing; 

This little one who ran away 
To take his lunch, is Ming. 


9 




New Yeajr’s D&y, Chindk. 

Fitter, patter, through the street, 
Cling-a-ling, long; 

Fire crackers, children. 

And lantern song. 

February’s rather late — 
Bim-a-bam, bin ! — 

But the hells are bringing 
The new year in. 

V 


10 






The Fishing Bird 

This small Sam Sid is a Chinese kid, 
Who owns a cormorant ; 

A handy bird, as of course you’ve heard, 
A pet a hoy should want. 

Sid likes a dish of Chinese fish. 

But does not sit all day. 

With hook and line, and tell what a fine 
^ Big fellow got away ! 

He sends the bird, and, upon my word. 
He plunges in his beak. 

And takes the prize that’s before his eyeb. 
Ere you’d have time to speak ! 


You’d think he’d eat of the tempting 
meat 

Beside the waters’ rim. 

But if he tried, when his neck was tied 
The joke would be on him! 



irame 


(all 


A little Yankee boy play^ ballNone day, 
ad flung tlie sjtn away,iawan 
little yellow Iboylaugnedlhamk^^ that 
A.nd caught the sun Wnis j^c^tmw hat. 
Then one went to riight, 

Lnd one jumped up uf tly morning light. 

The litt^ yellow boy ca 
And tossM it to the ' 

With tiny pamted bowl, with^cjadp stfcks nice, 
He then sat do\\m^ his brea^fla^ rice. 

He played all day ^tilThe heard a call : 

Hello! China boy, throw back that ball ! 

The httle Yankee boy held out his hands, 

The sun whirled back through darkened lands. 
^^Hello ! said the boy as he caught the sphere, 
IVe got you now and I’ll keep you here.’’ 
But he struck too hard and after all. 

The sun dropped down on the Chinese wall 





In his hammock of sHfc the httle cocpbn 
Swings on the mu|beiry^ree/ 

The threads are as fin^^dme beams of the moon 
That he’s spinning mr you and for me. 

A bite of the leaf and a drink of the dew, 

Is all that he takes for his luncheon at noon; 
He works for the world and he never gets through, 
A right busy chap is the Chinese cocoon. 




14 




Pigmies 


W.- 




I 


deep, 


Swinging on tlie grapevine in the forest 


Black and shining baby thinks hedl go to 
sleep. 

That’s a funny cradle,” said an ape, in 

play; 

“ Very like the fashion that was in my 
day.” 


I 


Little Pigmy baby sitting on a hmb, 

Naughty little monkey looking down on 
him. 

'^What makes you so little?” said the 
ape so wise. 

^‘1 don’t know,” said Pigmy; guess it’s 
just my size.” 



« 


16 



[g ago, 


Once upon a time, 1( 
When all the things 
know. 

There lived in a fo/( 
A wee little, black, 
He was three feelj ta 
He’d pick up his no 
And all the animals 
When e’er the terril 


c a/pigmy man, 
wsirf African. 

[, and so very strong 
se and trot along, 
naked in fear 
e man was-mear. 


His whiskers grew so Ibi^g And so fine. 

He twined them tight, and ne made a line; 
And stark and still as a po^i of wood. 

Each week on a Monday nio^ he stood 
Up on a bank, where t^ windjwas high/\ 
While his wife hung uj/ the/^sh to^dxy. ' 
Oh, he was a very hancW man. 

That three feet tall, bla^ (African. 


17 






There was a loop at the end, you see, 
That he hitched around a bush or tree; 
And he found it useful, many a day, 

When he found it best to get away 
From a tiger or a crocodile 
That gave him an unpleasant smile. 

Hand over hand, and up he’d go. 

And leave them crying down below. 

He would crook his arm and drive his 
spear, 

And nip a piece from the lion’s ear; 

His bow was strong and his arrow light; 
No eye could follow its sudden flight. 
With a twang and whirr ’twould fly awa;y , 
And there was a dinner for him that day. 
The fish swam into the frying pan 
In the hands of the pigmy African. 




Did you ever see a pulka? 

’Tis a little Lapland sled, 

- - And a swift and merry reindeer 
Prances on ahead. 

If you should try to drive him 
I haven’t any doubt 
He’d dash across the mountain 
And you’d fall out. 





If you ever see a pulka, 

You’ll find a boy within 
In a coat he calls a kapta, 

Made of reindeer skin. 

Then jump right up beside him, 
And swing the sleigh about ; 
The big North wind ’ll get you, 
If you fall out ! 




A Little Lapp Baby 




O little Lapp baby, your cradle’s a shoe 
All lined with sweet moss and made ready for 
you. 

Your father has gone to spear fish in the ice 
And soon he will bring you a raw, juicy slice. 
Your mother’s at work with her needle of bone. 
To make you a little fur suit of your own : 

But if you should cry, or make faces or gidn. 
Your face would freeze hard in the shape 
it was in! 








20 








Little Boy Black is a negro 
kid, 

’Way down in the white 
cotton land. 

He’s just as gay as a katydid, 
But he’s neither freckled 
or tanned. 


He hears the wind in the 
canebrake sing, 

And he’ll make him a banjo soon. 

With a sheepskin head and a single string 
From the tail of the furry coon. 


He will make a doll of the soft red clay. 
With queer little legs and a head; 
And when it is baked in the sun all day, 
’T will be just a little Boy Red. 


21 



Cornfield Lullaby 


By o’ Babun, chuck yo’ kinky haid 
On yo’ mammy’s breas’; , 

Lil’ brer squirr’l hes scampered off ter baid — 
Time yo’se gwine ter res’. 

Ole Miss Hen hes spread huh spotted wings, 
Like a um-be-rell! 

Plop! whar’s gone dem downy, yeller tings? 
Don’ yo’ all go tell! 

By o’ Babun, dark yo’ shinin’ eye. 

Snuggle soft and calm; 

Tore yo’ come I wanted foh to die — 


Lambie, 0 mah lamb! 


Ole brack Sin war standin’ at de door. 
Lookin’ roun’ foh me; 

But I ’spect yo’se skeered him off, foh shore, 
’Case he’s lef ’ me be. 

By o’ Babun, see old Mammy Night 
In dem clouds up dar. 

Dark yo’ eye, ur she’ll see de light 
An’ tink yo’se a star. 

She’s dat mad she dunno waiter say, 

’Case yo’se lef’ de sky. 

Dark yo’ eye an’ chuck yo’ haid away— 

Ole Mam Night’s gwine by. 



\ 














Mistah ’Possum 

" Little Mistah Tossum, 

It seems to me 
Dat you’d cotch a bad cold 
Up in dat tree. 

Now^ why don’t you come down ? ” 

Little Mistah ’Possum 
He says, says he: 

It’s warm in de kittle, 

Dat I’ll agree! 

But I don’t like de town.” 


Little Mistah ’Possum, 
Don’t you all ’spose 
Yo’se a gwine fob ter spile 
Your Sunday clothes 
Up dar on dat ar limb ? ” 

Mistah ’Possum laugh, an’ 
He wunk his eye: 

I won’t need any clothes 
In sweet bime-by.” 

Dey ain’ a gwine cotch him! 


24 


I 





Three Little Kingdoms 


Three little kingdoms in the sea, 

One for you, one for you, one for me. 
Norway and Sweden, side by side. 
Could you find Denmark if you tried? 
Shy little country. I’ll take you ! 
Who’ll he king of the other two? 


Norway looks on the North sea cold; 
Sweden thinks of her farm and fold. 
Scandia’s mountains, high and green, 
Stretch, like a fence, the lands between. 
Norse hoys haul their fish nets in ; 
Swedish little ones plow and spin. 




Name day, birth day, Christmas day — 
These are the times the workers play. 
Wee girls cook on the doll house stoves 
Seed cakes, patties, and sugar loaves. 
Spread the cloth that is white, not fine, 
Tell the hoys : It is time to dine. 





2fi 



On Swedish Hills 



Olaf made his pair of skees 
Out of birch wood, fine and strong. 
Scarce four inches wide are these, 
But they measure six feet long. 


When he ties them on he’ll go 
Walking with a slender staff. 

If he falls down in the snow 
All the boys and girls will laugh. 

From the hill, so white and high. 

All the little folks in town 

Bike the snow birds seem to fiy. 

As their skees come rushing down. 

Then they leave the pathway free. 
And stand hack among the trees ; 

For it is a sight to see 
Olaf jumping with his skees. 



The F&,rm Fairy’s Revenge 

Thora washed the dishes, set them on their shelf, 
While outside the window, called a little elf : 

“Thora, Thora, Thora, what are you about? 

Where’s my dish of porridge? Won’t you set it out? ’ 

Then the child made answer to the pretty fay : 

“If you want some supper, he.p yourself, I say ! ” 

Then she tied her apron, then she pulled each sleeve, 
While outside, the nissie sadly staid to grieve. 

“Foolish Danish maiden,” said she, “don’t you know 
That you cannot prosper when you treat me so?” 

Then she left the window, crossed the snowy dell. 
Thora heard the jangle of the heifer’s bell. 

At tha low roofed stables, paused the elf to call . 
Softly to each creature in its narro^w st^l. - " "" 

Then she passed the^feepfold and unloosed the 
latch: ^ 

At the poultry houses lifted up each catch. 

Then the cows and horses, 'pigs and goats 
and sheep, 

followed where she led them to the moun- 
V tains steep. 

And Qiey nevfer :^und them, seeking night 
and day, 

For the nissie punished Thora in that w: 







s * f ^ . y- / v;> V - V .* • • • *' ■ ' 1 ‘‘^ • ->H' •* tJ 

A Tv*^' ^ ' 

W-&c^- '/. ua; 










J’v*- 


I r^eu/^K€AK/ 


a- 




■ W'‘-r 


4V 










Olaf, the Norseman, built him a boat, 
weather the North Sea’s gale, 
certain,” he said, “that nothing will float 
As well as an Arctic whale. 

'I’ll borrow his ribs for my craft, I think, 

And cover the shape with skin. 

He surely will never descend, or sink. 

With sails for his dorsal fin. 

Young Olaf his journey at last begun, 

And hght was his whale hone craft. 

And the sea shone bright in the midnight 
sun. 

And the water babies laughed. 

For the whales and sharks and the dolphins 

spry, 

Swam up as he passed to see 
The strange, strange fish that was going by 
And wonder what it could he. 


Norwegian Boy’s Boat 




Oh, I^m a little Redskin 
boy, 

I wear an eagle feather. 

I have an arrow for a toy. 
My moccasins are leather. 


My little sister has a doll — 

Of wood I carved and made it. 
She took it to the fairy^s hall. 
And ^neath a pine tree laid it. 


A silver wolf came running past 
And stole the painted dolly. 

I sent an arrow on the blast. 

And paid him for his folly. 

My sister sings a hunting song 
When all the young stars ghsten, 
The Big Bear up above so strong 
Leans from the sky to listen. 


31 



IS 

The Doll Party 

Bright Eyes had a little party: 

And the little children came 
With their dogs to help them carry 
All the playthings for the game. 


All the little girls had dollies; 

Dollies short and dollies tall. 

Some with hair decked out in feathers; 
One without a head at all. 

Some were carved of wood, and colored 
With the red and yellow clay; 

And dressed up like little warriors 
Armed and ready for the fray. 

Some of soft and tawny leather 



32 




How the Indian was Named 

The nameless Tittle i^avajo, 

The moon of his serenth year, 

Asked for his father ^s' cedar bow 
Asked for his father’s spear. 


The painted wigwam’s pictured side, 
He read like a story old. 

I’ll ride away,” he proudly cried, 
^^And win me a name that^s bold.” 


Hi^ihother laid her weaving by, 
/And made him an answer kind: 
My dear one is too young to try 
To weather the wihter f^ind. 


A chi^f they’ll make-my-strong one soon)» 
Hit’ll play with his talking crow 
Frj^m moon of L^eaves to Snow-shoe moon, 
/yAnd then have his wish — and go.” 






33 


1 



of night/’ he said, 
to the dull earth’s sound; 
a jasper arrow head, 

And down to a point ’tis ground. 


My pony waits to hear my call, 

With saddle of wild cow’s horns, 

And doeskin cloth that’s white and small. 
And decked with the painted thorns. 


My shaft is feather winged, and so 
I’ll ride to the cactus field; 

And hunt for the lordly buffalo, 

And take from his breast my shield. 


I’ll stretch the hide with hunter’s might. 
Above a smouldering fiame. 

And when my shield is smoked that night 
The braves will pronounce my name.” 



34 


His mother said no other words; 

But brought him his buckskin suit. 

^Twas worked with beads and quills of birds, 
And stained with the scarlet fruit. 



The little shells of the saltless seas, 

She brought for his wampum strings, 
And sent him through the path of trees 
Where bubble the Indian springs. 

The Blue Jay, picket of the wood. 
Watched long at the prairie^s rim. 

He saw the boy and understood. 

And called to the forest dim: 

^^A young brave comes his name to win.’^ 
The signal the Blue Jay sent. 

Was carried on, and each within 
Kept close in his small green tent. 



No sound was there of bird or beast, 
But out from a thousand oaks 
With watchfulness that never ceased 
Peered ever the furtive folks. 


The moon of Brightest Nights went past, 
The moon of the crimson leaf, 

Before the boy rode home at last 
To lighten his mother’s grief. 

I could not kill,” he said in shame, 

^^My heart and my arrow stayed.” 

Then laughed the tribe and called 
his name: 

^Woung-Hunter-that-was-Afraid.” 

But mothers know the better way, 

The truest and noblest part: 

She callec^ him from that very day : 

'' The Chief-with-the-Tender-Heart. 



30 





or 






Blowing Bubbles 


y A brimming bowl of soapy foam 
\ And pipes for all around it ! 

If there’s a bettter game at home, 
I’m sure I have not found it. 
Whiupuffingcheeks and eager eyes 
^^..''The oMldrenlSfe^ each bubble, 
-^^^^il^aughty, jelled butterflies 
"^^Keem bent oni^mhg^rouble. 


here and, darting thera 
/^t n^bne can makb it, 
jr'<fe'^^fhe bubble ihjthe air, 
e4.if_^hey can break it. 

^^^3^who makes ^^h^ bubble stay 
lr;^|i^don^^ minflfe, 

. iia^ a cr^iiAo/tvear that day, 
h. pi^ty fl^^^ in it. 


38 





Tha 


Cuban' eliildre](i have 
Shining fireflies ; 

See them chas^ with gauzy nets 
Every darting prize. 

Now they poise above, below, 
Now they fly away ; 

With their three eyes all aglow 
How they dance and play. 

The cucuUo is the lamp 
Of the poorest child. 

In a lowly cot or camp. 

In the country wild. 


39 


Cuban 

Cradle Song 



Where will you have your cradle set? 
And when will you deign to rise? 

What will you have to break your fast, 
Good Senor Sleepy Eyes? 


A house of pink or a purple 
house? 

A nice little house of red? 
Which shall I buy for you. 
today, 

Don Caesar Curly Head? 



40 



Bkitish Isles 





The M&ypole Ddoice 


1 boys and girls, 

. coats and dresses gay, 

^ ' V,^itb ^ancing eyes and floating curls, 
1^,^* And crown tbe queei^.of May. 

; Co&e make a tbjrone of leafy green. 
And raise the |ba3q)ole near ; 
s For children before the queen 
: When loveljl^pring is here. 


^ 5 ’ow take^ th^ ribbons In your hands. 
And trip ; &om lefji to right 
Till roui^ the pole the rainbow strands 
Are.wqiiiiid inv;eblors bright. 


The dafedil unties her cap 
% "t.: ■ To see th^ children play. 

The crocus%akens from his nap, 
••And knows ’tis surely May! 


42 





ranee 


radle Song 

d my needle gleams 
a sheath of white ; 
wharf of dreams 
'rom the shores of Light. 

HEAVY LIDDED AS A FLO WEE, 

, THEOUGH THE PUEPLE SHADOWED HOUB 


Jiwe^eiisured thee with a ribbon siring 
^Fibm wee, pink feet to thy curly crown, 
nd thrill with pride as I sew and sing, 
ou great man child ! on thy first short gown ! 

BABY, SLEEP BABY, FEOM A SOLDIEE LINE DESCENDED, 
BABY, SLEEP BABY, STEONG AS HeCTOE, AND AS SPLENDID? 


!^e lids droop over thy steadfast eyes ; 
iftly I turn the final hem, 

1 1 awake with a great surprise, 
o find thee grown to the height of men. 

Sle% %by, sleep baby, nevee was theee such^anothee : 
Sleep baby, sleep baby, but the deeamee is thy mothee. 




44 


The Bather 


Baby’s a sailor and wide is the 
sea — 

Sing Ho! my laddie. 

He will come down to the bord- 
ers with me, 

Sing Ho! my laddie. 

Warm are the waves to his little 
pink toes, 

Spray on his cheek is like dew 
on a rose. 

Plunge ! In his bath like a mer • 
man he goes — 

Sing Ho ! my laddie ! 




Norah Malolly 


Young Norah Malolly 
Had quite a fine dolly 
Made from a potato alone. 

Its green hair was sprouting, 
Its brown lips were pouting, 
And two eyes it had of its own. 


A cap with a feather 
It had for fine weather, 

A hit of a shawl, snug and neat ; 
And Norah would mutter, 

‘With salt and with butter, 

The darlint would he good to eat.” 





The rose and the thistle are growing, 
In over much sun, as it must he 
But O, there’s a plant that is more fair 
green. 

The shamrock, the tear -watered 


I’ll make ye a crown of the shamrock. 

I’ll fasten a spray to your dear little breast : 

’Twill sink in your heart and ’twill stay there, my 
colleen. 

For O, the sweet shamrock, the shamrock is best. 


47 


Mister Mick Nick 



Mister Mick Nick of Tip- 
perary 

Took a pig to the county 
fair. 

It was too big' for him to 
carry, 

But who could drive it any 
where? 


How will ye sell the haste, 
contrary?” 

Shouted the farmer, Shan 
O’Dufe. 

Sure,” said the man from 
Tipperary, 

I know, meself, an’ that’s 
enough!” 


48 


Christie and Donald 




Up the mountain Christie goes, 
Climbing like a goat ; 

Green jacket, little cap, 

And tartan petticoat. 

With her shepherd dog all day 
She will watch the sheep. 

If she had a crook she’d he 
Little Miss Bo Peep. 

Donald plays the bagpipes loud 
All the afternoon. 

Christie hears him far away 
Playing “Bonnie Boon.” 

Some day he’ll he marching 
down 

In a scarlet coat, 

And will sail away to war 
In an iron boat. 




49 



The Fairy_Balloon ,,, 

Way down the Scottisii^en^rode fast the 
fairy men, ^ ^ 

^ Each upon a crick^:^fcrq^hbred, sir. 

They were si^^^dressed all in, 

hnnter’s;.^^^' 

With thistles in their jo* 



Up on the heather plai^utl;le fairy chief drew 
rein, 

And loud upon his silver horn he hleyr, sir. 
And said: “I really fear that we^re lost 
down here. 


So what do you su 



r do, sir?” 

P^' 


A dandy lion heard and thought it seemed . 

absurd # \ 

To try to climb a mountain on a cricket. J 
He ran a balloon line and trade y^as,v6^^/ flne^ 
When ev’ry fairy man had bought his ticket 





ET^ 


vJ JL*» 








On 



Pl&yin^ Golf 


A young highland laddie 
Went down by the dune; 
Behind walked his caddie 
And loud sang a tune : 

‘*A plaid ye may wear, 

A Tam ye may doff, 

Ye’ll nae he a Scotchman 
Unless ye play golf.” 








Scotch Lullaby 


Come to your nest, my bairn, my dear.. 
While soft the moonlight gleams ; 

And cuddle doon wi’oot a fear. 

My bonnie Jock o’ Dreams. 


The lang, lang day is over noo. 

Each star in kindness beams ; 

The flowers’ eyes are shut with dew. 
My little Jock o’ Dreams. 




A, 



Arabia 


Hassan and His Horse 

Hassan was an Arab lad; 

Atair was the horse he had. 

Where the burning simoon swept, 
In a tent of skins they slept. 

Sometimes hungry, sometimes fed. 
Sharing cup and sharing bread. 
Hassan and his horse alone 
Where the desert stars outshone. 
Hafiz was a bandit Turk, 

With a scimiter and dirk. 

Once, at night, he came and found 
Hassan sleeping on the ground; 
And he laughed in silent glee. 

For a wicked Turk was he. 

And he bound him fast and strong 
With a cruel leather thong; 


54 






Tied him to his horse^s back, 
Drove him to the desert track. 



Atair felt his master^s breast; 

Close against his mane it pressed 

And the whinny soft, he gave, 

Said: “Idl find a way to save! ’’ 

While they on and onward went,^ 
Till they reached the Turkish .fent, 

Where the robbers met with jpy 
Hafiz and the captive T3oy. I 

But they left poor Hassan tie^^ 

On the ground, his horse beside. 




■ 


55 




Some time in the night he felt 
Atair searching for his belt. 

In his teeth he seized it fast, 

Raised the boy, and swiftly passed 

All the guards, that sleeping lay; 
Cleared the camp, and sped away 

Toward the black tent, in the South, 
With his master in his mouth. 

Lightly fell his flying feet — 

Never was a horse so fleet; 

Pausing not until once more 
Hassan was before his door. 

Then the Arabs made a feast. 

And invited all the East. 



Roses white and roses red 
Made a wreath for Atair ’s head; 

Candied fruits they gave to him; 
Ruby wine in flagons thin. 

But he liked the best, I think. 
From the water skin to drink; 

And the grass that Hassan pressed 
Was far sweeter than the rest. 




A . 










ftOLLAND 



A windmill swung its arm — 

Not meaning any harm ; 

But then the sea was angry just the same. 

It gave a mighty swdsh, 

Which frightened ev’ry fish, 

And o’er the dikes of Holland shook its mane. 

Now Holland, as you know. 

Is very, very low. 

And would be swallowed out of sight and sound, 
If dikes, hke fences stout,.: v 
Were not built all about, “ 

To keep the Sea from eating up the ground. 

0 " 

Upon this summer day, 

It would have been that way, ^ 

Had one small boy, named Hans, hot chanced to 
like S 

To sail his w^ooden shoes. 

Like men o’ war, with crews. 

With (rretel and her doUs upon the dike. 





58 


M 


The ocean, with a roar, 

Went raging by the shore. 

And in the wall it found a little chink. 
“Swish, swish!” it said in glee, 

“Those windmills now will see. 

That I can stop them quicker than a wink!” 


It lapped the stones apart. 

Till Gretel, with a start. 

Cried out: “The dike is broken, we are lost!” 
Hans saw a little stream 
Just breaking in between. 

And vowed to save his land at any cost ! 





I' 

! 

i 

L. 

’ No moment could he wait 

j Or it would he too late ^ 

I And over all the land the sea would roll. 

! He could not mend the crack, 

: To hold the waters back, 

And so he thrust his arm within the hole. 


And thus he closed the break 
While Gretel ran to take 
The warning to the burghers in the town. 
They hurried down to mend 
The dike, and in the end 
The boy became a hero of renown ! 



60 




Getting Breakfast 

In the window peeped the sun : 
“Come,” he cried, “the night is done.” 

Little Hilda jumped from bed. 
“Breakfast I must get,” she said. 

Then in just a moment more 
Wooden shoes clicked on the floor. 

Click and clatter ! What a noise ! 

In came running all the hoys. 

Ev’ry one to do his share. 

To save mother from all care. 

On the crane the kettle swayed. 

On the hoard the cloth was laid. 

Then the glowing coals they raked. 
While the fish in ashes baked. 


62 


Hilda took from off the shelf 
Pewter spoons and cups of delf . 

Counting noses, just in fun, 

Laid a place for ev’ry one. 

Little Hans, wdth eyes of blue. 
Brought a tuhp, wet with dew. 

Crossed the sanded floor, and straight 
Laid the flower by one plate. 

Whose could it have been? I guess 
Mother pinned it on her dress. 




The Little Holland Boy 

See the tiny Holland boy in his trousers new, 
With each sturdy little foot in a wooden shoe. 
If you saw him on the street when you chanced 
to roam, 

Would you think him bound for school or just 
coming home? 


64 


w 

Hawaii 


I 

I Swimming to School 

Kalu loves to go to school — 

Like most ev’ry boy. 

Starts to read and mind the rule 
Ev’ry morn with joy. 

But you cannot walk or ride 
If you go with him, 

I For he jumps into the tide 

And strikes out to swim. 




Still, the fishes, I am told. 

Go to school that way 
And these children, brown and 
hold. 

Swim as well as the}- . 

Think how funny it would he 
If they’d change around : 

All the children learn at sea. 

All the fish on ground. 

With a swordfish in command 
Boys would drill and turn ; 

While the fish, with hooks in hand. 
Many things could learn. 



66 




Hawaiian Cradle Son^ 

I crown thy drowsy head 
With leis of flowers red, 

Aloha nni loa. 


Thine eyes are like a lake 
Where stars their thirstings slake, 
Aloha nui loa. 


The fragrance of the South 
Is in thy seeking mouth, 
Aloha nui loa. 

The songs of day are faint 
Oh, slumber -Added saint, 
Aloha, Aloha, 

Aloha nui loa. ' ^ 



The Boomerang Thrower 

It really is absurd, 

And painful, I have heard. 

To he a walking gallery 
Of ev’ry beast and bird. 



Most any one would think 
A little boy might shrink 
From having all his history 
Pricked into him with ink. 


But wuen a South Sea boy 
Goes to a feast of poi. 

He does not struggle wearily 
With clothes which spoil his joy. 



For he’s a picture show 
All by himself, you know. 
And how this little Islander 
A boomerang can throw ! 

It is a crooked stick 
He hurls with gesture quick ; 
And ev’ry other little lad 
Would like to learn the trick. 


G8 



Flower B&bies 


The little maids of Mexico, 

When Cortez came, so long ago. 

Had dolls of ivory and pearl. 

With beaten gold in ev’ry curl. 

Their eyes were sapphires, bright and 
blue. 

Their lips were pearls and rubies too. 
Their little dresses, I am told. 

Were jewel -threaded cloth of gold. 
But that was very long ago — 

When Cortez conquered Mexico. 


The little Mexic maids today 
Beneath the pepper trees at play, 
Have dollies, not so proud and grand, 
But just the “sweetest in the land.” 
The roses, dressed in fashion new. 
With lily caps just washed in dew. 
These httle people of the Sun 
Will blush and play till day is done. 
The flowers did not cease to grow. 
When Cortez conquered Mexico. 



71 





In Mexico 


To market, to market, merrily go, 

Three little Mexicans all in a row. 

All in a row on a small donkey’s back ; 
Down on each side is a posy-filled pack. 
Once in the town they will cheerily cry : 
“Who’ir buy our roses? Who’ll buy? Who 
will buy?” 


Home again, home again ; heavy his load ! 
Sancho, the donkey, will play on the road. 
Down goes his head and then over it keels, 
Three httle Mexicans heads over heels ! 
Three httle Mexicans all in a row 
Running to mother and crying: “Oh! Oh!” 


72 


Soon they will sup from a beautiful dish, 
Modeled in clay, on tortillas and fish. 

Then, when the stars are all hghted, per- 
chance 

Off they will run to the plaza to dance. 

Songs in their hearts and sweet hells on their 
clothes ; 

Oay little Mexicans, give me a rose ! 



73 





France 


Busy Little White Caps 


Merry little children, 
Born in sunny France; 
Many people think they 
Nothing do but dance. 
Jolly little Armand, 
Boguish Antoinette, 

On their tiny tiptoes. 
Spring and pirouette. 


But there are some lessons 
That they all must learn. 
In the shining kitchens, 
Where the fires burn. 
Every little French boy. 
Every little lass. 

Has to go each morning 
To a cooking class. 


If youTl stay to dinner. 
Any pleasant day. 

They will cook it for you. 
Singing, as in play. 
Soup and beef and salad. 
Dainty as they look; 
Busy little white caps, . 
Every one a cook. 


74 



The Little Artist 



Julie dressed her kitten 
In an Empire hat, 

Over coat and saber, 
Like a soldier cat. 


Then she said “Be quiet 
And look pleasant, please ; 
And he very careful 
Not to wink or sneeze.” 


1 


Then she took her canvas. 
Paints and brush and knife : 
And made pussy’s picture 
Just as real as hfe. 




Making Sand Men 

See the little Frenchmen, 
Even in their play 
Making pretty figures 
Out of plastic clay. 

Pointed stick and shingle 
Are the tools in reach 
As they shape their sculpture 
Down beside the beach. 

Lions, birds and fishes. 

And a sandman, too, 

With his eyes of berries. 

And his mouth askew. 




Some day these young sculptors 
Will be sent to schools. 

Where they’ll learn to model 
With the proper tools. 


Two Little Dolls 



Lizette has a Paris doll 
Dressed with charming taste. 
“Mamma!” it will always call, 
If you squeeze its waist. 

Ev’ry night it goes to bed 
In a ruffled gown, 

With a pillow for its head 
Made of eider-down. 




Marie has her dolly, too. 

Like a Breton maid ; 

Cheeks of red and eyes of blue, 
In its best arrayed. 


Though it looks so neat and 
mild, 

I have heard folks say 
It is quite a heartless child 
And is stuffed with hay. 



78 


Japan 


What You Would Do 
In J&.pd^n 

If you went for a ride in Japan, 

You would go in a jinrikisha, 

With a paper umbrella and fan, 

And a queer little rain coat of straw. 

In this quaint, two -wheeled cart in Japan, 
Down the road where the cherry trees grow. 
You would drive not a horse hut a man. 
Who would stop when you called to him : 
“Whoa!” 



Should you chance to walk out in the rain — 
Why, your clogs would be six inches tall ! 
And then, when it was dry once again 
You would surely appear very small. 


If you were a good child of the land. 
You would go to the temples each day. 
With some red paper prayers in your 
hand. 

And that is the way you would pray. 


79 


Battle of the Kites 


A small Jap man, called Nanki San, 
Once owned a demon kite ; 

A naughty thing with beak and wing, 
That only lived to fight. 

Its tail, alas ! was broken glass, 

Stuck on the string with glue. 

The kites in air would run and stare, 
But what were they to do? 

He’d go aloft, and very oft 
Would cut the others down ; 

Till, by and by, they would not fiy 
Above the startled town. 

That was not right, and one old kite 
To all the others said : 

“If you’ll agree to follow me 
We’ll take that giant’s head.” 

When next they flew, the leader true 
Went boldly to the foe ; 

And with a dash, and cut, and slash. 
He sent him down below ! 


80 




The Feast of Dolls 

“Sweet dougli, Sweet dougli!” 
Calls the peddler as lie goes 
Down the streets of Tokio, 

In his funny hat and clothes. 

“Sweet dough, Sweet dough!’’ 
All the children run to take, 
And the little ovens glow 
While the pretty cakelets hake. 





“Sweet dough. Sweet dough!” 
Made in shapes of A B Cs, 

And the animals they know 
For the little Japanese. 

“Sweet dough. Sweet dough !’" 
’Tis the Feast of Dolls today ; 
Do the dolls of Tokio 
Learn their letters in that way? 


82 



Germany 

Hihe Poorest Child 

Old Kris Kringle, in Ms shop, 
Worked all day and could not stop. 
“Christmas is so near,” he said, 
“Ev’ry doll must have her head; 
Ev’ry sled a painted coat ; 

Ev’ry flock a fleecy goat ; 

Ev’ry play house walls and roofs ; 
Ev’ry hobby horse its hoofs. 
Children grow too good, ’tis clear. 
When it comes this time of year.” 




Old Frau Kringle dragged across 
Bags of mail marked: “Santa Claus.’’ 
“All those children over seas,” 

Said she, “Call you what they please.” 
But she said it with a smile 
Dressing dollies all the while. 

And he read the letters out 
Frowning at one as in doubt. 

“Dear me,” said he, “What is this! 

One child only wants a kiss ! ” 


S4 



“Listen to her wish, my dear” 

(On his cheek there shone a tear ) -- 
“Dear Old Santa give my toys 
To your other girls and hoys, 

But on Christmas eve so bright. 
Please, Oh please, kiss me good nigbl. 
For since mamma went above 
I have everything but love.” 

Old Kris Kringle shook his head. 
“That’s our poorest child,” he said. 



85 


The Little German Band 



I’m major of de drum, 

Und don’t you see me come 
Yust marchin down de street so fine 
und grand? 

De peeples run to see 
Vat all dose sounds can be, 

Ven I takes out my leetle Grerman 
band. 

Mit mufi upon my bead 
Und leetle coat of red, 

I feels so proud I yust can hardly 
stand. 

Mit dinner bell, und pan, 

Ve play de best we can. 

Yen I takes out my leetle German 
band. 


De musics all must play 
In yust de time I say, 

Ven I walks down de front mit stick in band. 
Und efry one dots near. 

He covers up bis ear, 

Und says: “My cracious, vat a German band!” 


86 



c 

> 
s 

5 

f'l 


I 



and the Lion 

Kruger was a little boy 
never had a pet or toy. 

He never caught a single look 
At Mother Goose’s picture book. 

Or had a fire engine, swift, 

Or hobby horse for Christmas gift. 


\ 


His father’s farm, so I am told. 

Brought nothing forth but gems and gold 


The sowers who went out to sow. 

Could never hope to make things grow, 

When underneath the scattered seeds. 
Were diamonds as thick as weeds. 


So this poor boy, as you must know. 
Just had to play with spade and hoe. 




88 



And then he jumped and rode and ran 
And tried his strength with ev’ry man • 

And all the time he stronger grew 
Than any of the neighbors knew. 

And when his mother read, one day, 
How Samson took big gates away ; 

And killed a lion in the wood ; 

Paul thought the story very good. 

And doubled up his knuckles, square. 
And had her feel his muscles, there ! 

A kopje (call it “ copy,” please) ; 

A little hill half hid in trees. 

Was very near the Kruger home. 

And there a lion used to roam. 



89 



One day, while strolling round the place, 
Paul met the lion face to face. 

“R-rr,” growled the beast; “R-rr,”said 
the Boer, 

While each one looked the other o’er. 

The narrow path, ’twas very true. 

Was scarcely wide enough for two. 

The lion crouched and lashed his tail ; 
The hoy stood waiting still and pale. 

But then Paul was the first to spring ; 
And heat the beast like ev’rything. 

He tweaked his tail and boxed his ears 
Until his mane was wet with tears. 

“Now,” said the lad, “I’ll set you free; 
But mind you keep away from me!” 


90 





He raised his hand, and with a rush 
The lion scampered to the brush. 

Then Paul went home and bathed his head, 
And said his prayers and went to bed. 

When he grew up the people sent 
For him to he their president. 


And then a stronger lion came 
And stood right in his path again. 


And all that he could do and say 
He could not make him go away. 


But those who ride upon that hill 
All say that he is trying still. 




91 



Poor Little Eskimo 

Born in the snow and cradled in ice ; 
Poor little Eskimo, pray is it nice? 


How do you like a house like a hive? 
How do you keep awake and alive? 


Can you have picnics without any 
trees? 

And can you swim when you’re likely 
to freeze? 


How can you make you a kite that will fly? 
And what do you do on the Fourth of July? 

Now when I think what you never can do, 

I feel just as sorry as can be for you ! 

If I’d a house with a cold icy floor, 

And terrible Totems stood up by the door, 

I’d take a hot brick and creep into bed. 

And draw up the quilts and cover my head. 


92 


Baseball in Greenland 

I’m captain of the nine, 

We play a game so fine, 

The other clubs are all afraid to meet us. 

And we’re as scared as they. 

Because if we should play 
They’d very likely find that they could beat us. 



The nine from Labrador 
Came to the Greenland shore. 

In uniforms theyltbok from pdlSr-h^rs, sir. 

With bails of walrus bone 
b^ aU set with stone. 

But nope ofils-eould-stand their haughty airs, sir, 


93 


The Baby’s Ride 


King Baby rides abroad today, 
In ev’ry place a di££’rent way. 



Strapped to his mamma’s side or back, 
Or tightly sewed in deerskin pack ; 

In Greenland swinging in a hood ; 

In Lapland in a shoe of wood. 

But then the strangest way I know, 

Is when the little Eskimo, 

Dressed in his best, new birdskin suit, 
Goes riding in his mother’s boot. 


94 



Nobody Knows 


Nobody cares, nobody knows 
When the Gypsy conies or goes 
Go to sleep, the fields are bare. 
Wake at dawn and he is there. 
Wagons rest and horses graze. 
Kettles swing above a blaze. 
Nobody knows, nobody cares 
How the gypsy lives and fares. 




\. 



Zenia has a little goat 
With a white and silky coat. 

All the day it follows her 
Through the woods of oak and fir. 
See her doll so fine and fair. 
Corn husk gown and corn husk 
hair! 

Who would not be glad to trade 
With a little gypsy maid? 




95 



A Gypsy Boy 

I’m a little brother of the sun, 

A strolling Gypsy player. 

I’ll sing for you when day is done, 
And no one will he gayer. 

But you may sleep in your walls 
and bars. 

And I will sleep in my tent of stars. 


I’m a little brother of the sun, 

I roam the hills and prairie. 

My Arab and my dog and gun 
Are near me when I tarry. 

To blend my voice with my sweet 
guitar’s 

And sing my song in my tent of 
stars. 


96 







TALY 



The Fantoccini 

The merry Fantoccini 
Are actors made of wood. 
They cannot even whisper, 
But still they’re understood. 


The theater is only 
A box with curtains red, 
Which Signor Pulcinella 
Has fastened round his head. 



But O, the funny speeches 
The voiceless people make, 

Will make you shake with laughter 
Until your sides will ache. 

There’s Signor Stenterella, 

A miser mean and old, 

And there’s the jolly bandit 
Who comes and takes his gold. 



98 


*‘Help! Help!” cries Stenterella, 
Who trembles in his skin. 

“Give me your money,” thunders 
The robber manikin. 


Then there is grand Regina, 

A lady proud and fair. 

And Serva in an apron 

Who stands and braids her hair. 


So stop and see the puppets 
When you go out to drive. 
The clown is just as foolish 
As though he were alive. 



99 




Pan’s Pipes 

Once Mister Pan, a funny man, 
Whose feet were like a goat’s. 

On reeds that grew beside him blew 
A lot of pretty notes. 

When first they heard, each beast 
and bird 

Drew near in great delight. 

And all that day they made him play, 
And long into the night. 


But soon, ’tis true, away he threw 
The pipes so sweet and wild. 

And they were found, all scattered 
’round. 

By an Italian child. 


‘Twas long ago, but still jmu know 
The birds will fold their wings 
And listen, mute, as, with the fiute, 
The sweet bambino sings. 


t 


100 


MM 


•4 





/ 


(( 


n 

u 



The Im&ge 
Seller 


CJp and down, up and down, 
Nardo trudges all the day 
With a tray upon his crown 
Filled with images of clay. 
Who will buy?” is his cry. 
Who will buy, who will buy?” 

Plaster saint, painted clown. 
Pink and green and white and 
red. 

Through the sunny streets of 
town 

Nardo carries on his head. 
Who will buy?” is his cry. 
Who will buy, who will buy?” 


There’s a monk in a gown ; 
There’s a sweet shepherdess. 
Nardo thinks, with a frown. 
He must go supperless. 

‘‘Who will buy?” is his cry, 
“Who will buy, who will buy?” 


102 


The Indian Ju^^ler 



A turban white is on his hair. 
White bags are on his legs ; 

And round and round he whirls 
in air, 

At least a score of eggs. 


o 


0 


He plants a seed and makes it grow 
Before your very sight ; 

And lifts a paper cone to show 
A bush with roses bright. 

He does ’most ev’ry kind of trick, 
And calls it “sleight of hand” : 

But if he would not be so quick. 
Perhaps we’d understand. 

Some little boys may like to try 
To swallow swords and blades. 

But as for me. I’ll take some pie- 
And bread and marmalades. 



103 


The Sacrifice of Dolls 

Where the yellow Ganges flows, 

Just the time the waters rise, 

Ev’ry httle maiden goes 
To its shore with weeping eyes ; 

J 

Down the walk with footsteps meek, 
To the River, fierce and grim ; 

And their tears are on each cheek 
When they give their dolls to him. 

Years and years ago, ’tis said. 

When the stream was causing harm. 
Some one took it in his head 
That they ought to make a charm. 

Gifts of ev’ry kind were brought 
To appease the river wild. 

And then some one had a thought 
That perhaps he’d like a child I 


\(\d 


So they hunted up and down 
Till the setting of the sun ; 

But no mother in the town 
Could they find to spare just one. 

Then a little Hindoo girl 
Thought that she might save them all : 
And she swiftly ran to hurl 
To the waves her dearest doll. 

Since that time, alas ’tis so! 

Just the time the waters rise 
Ev’ry Hindoo girl must go 
To that dreadful sacrifice. 



105 





' J ■ 

The Pij[eons of Jeypore 


Ev’ry evening when the sunset 
Streaks with gold the courtyard floor, 
Then the little Buddhist children 
Feed the pigeons aiid^e^pre^ p^ / 

' r)>' 

With a whirr oJ,^ngs and flurr^j 
They come swfeping Jo the grour^^^ 
When the young priest of the temjfl% 
Calls them with a singing sound. : 


Many little brown -skinned beggto 1’ " ‘ - w 

Ask for crumbs from door to doo^-^^y^fi^^ 

So that they can feed the pigeons ‘v4; ‘ 

Sacred pigeons of Jeypore. 




106 



The Knee Par&de of India 

Six little boys of Bombay, 

In white linen tunics and caps, 

Are waiting, in silent dismay. 

The signalling drum’s rat -a -taps. 


With many a shiver and shake 
They’re dreading the time and afraid : 
But know very soon they must make 
The terrible night knee parade. 


Some people may think it’s a joy, 
To proudly march out and be seen : 
When they just look sharp at a boy 
To see that his knees are all clean ! 


107 





The Prince and the Serf 

Ivan, the Russian, said one day, 

“Bring me my horse, bring me my 
sleigh. 

My caftan warm and turban gay. 

And I’ll ride down to Moscow.” 


“Oh, little Father, brave and true,” 
His servant said, “Let me go, too. 
And drive the wolf away from you. 
When you set out for Moscow.” 

Young Ivan frowned: “You cannot go; 
The forest path I surely know ; 
Between the trees across the snow, 

I hear the bells of Moscow.” 


His little boots were trimmed and fuiTed 
The bells upon his harness stirred ; 

And Paulo said no other word 
When he went forth to Moscow. 


108 





The old gray wolf, he knew full well, 
Would hear the swift hoofs as they fell ; 
And his young prince might never tell 
How fast he rode to Moscow. 


“Sometimes,” he to himself did say, 
“A serf may dare to disobey.” 

Then he took horse and sped away. 
Along the road to Moscow. 



With flying feet, but muffled tread. 

With pointed ears and nostrils red. 

As fast behind his master sped 
Toward the spires of Moscow. 


109 


While yet the forest loomed around, 
A long howl came across the ground. 
“Run, little horse! the wolf has found 
The prince rides forth for Moscow!” 


The wolf upon the prince’s track, 
Had never thought of looking back. 
Until a rifle’s flash and crack 
Had stopped his race to Moscow. 


The prince’s fear was changed to mirth : 
He stopped his horse and jumped to 
earth ; 

“Come,” called he to his little serf, 
“And go with me to Moscow!” 



110 


J&.n’s B&th 

Should you see Jan take his bath 
I am sure you’d have to laugh! 

’Neath the Russian stove a hole 
In the floor is like a bowl ; 

4nd here Master Baby goes 
Curly head and rosy toes ; 

Here he sputters, kicks and chokes, 
While he steams and steams and soaks. 
Then his mother reaches down. 

Takes him by his tousled crown ; 

PuUs him out upon the brim 
And pours water over him ! 

Splash and dash and souse and douse ! 
TiU a little half -drowned mouse 
Scampers out, upon all fours. 

To the snow bank out of doors, 

Where he’s rolled and rolled and rolled — 
So he will not take a cold. 

Tell me, would you stop to laugh 
If you had a Russian bath? 


Ill 


7 . 



% 

The sun is bright, the hills are white, 

The track is steep and wide, 
fCome on, my dear, and do not fear, 

And we will have a ride. 

Take the toboggan, take the toboggan, 

THE TOBOGGAN, AND WE’LL HAVE A BIDE ! 


When Winter old, in garments cold. 

To wrap the earth has tried, 

I’d rather play in Canada 
Than all the world beside. 

Take the toboggan, take the toboggan. 
Take the toboggan, and we’ll have a bide ! 


A streak of light will mark our flight, 

As down the way we glide. 

’Tis jolly fun, so jump and run 
And we will have a ride. 

Take the toboggan, take the toboggan. 
Take the toboggaij, and we’ll have a bide! 




t 

4 




I -» f y 


A. r. 


i 




The ^Melting Man 

A Snow man stood beside the hill, 

It was the last of March. 

Said he : “I’m feeling very ill, 

And haven’t any starch. 

I pray yon bring me some ice cream 
When you come back from town ; 
For since the sun has run so 
high 

I’m really quite run down.’’ 






The Battle in the Snow 


A snow fight, a snow fight, 
Take sides, if you please. 
The balls are like cotton, 
But don’t let them freeze ! 


A hero, I’m certain 
You’ve heard the truth oft. 
Likes always in battle. 

To have the balls soft. 

A snow fight, a snow fight, 
The war has begun I 
A whirr and a flurry, 

Oh, isn’t it fun? 

Each prisoner taken. 

We’ll drive by the neclc 
And put in a fortress 
Of snow in Quebec, 


115 



Ze bateau sleeps beside her mere, 

Ze lak, zat ees so steel. 

Zar en ze beeg, black woods, ma chere, 
I haire ze wbeep-poor-weel. 


Some leetle chiles mus’ go to sleep, 

As fas’ as fas’ she can. 

3ut no beeg bird mus’ come to wheep 
Ma belle Canadienne ’ 



GYPT 







G1 


The True Story of 
Cinderella 

Cinderella and her glory 
Make a very pretty story, 

But the truth about the matter is 
just this : 

Rodolphis, a small Egyptian, 

Yery fair, from her description, 
With her red Morocco slippers was 
the Miss. 




It is told in hieroglyphic. 

That she fed a bird terrific. 

That was always roosting ’round on 
Phar’oh’s tomb ; 

Though all other people feared him. 
It is said she quite revered him. 

And took bread and butter to him in 
his gloom. 



117 




One time, says the ancient reading, 

When the Nile was fast receding. 

Young Rodolphis, with some others, went to swim , 
But, for fear they’d spoil by wetting. 

Both her tiny shoes left setting 

Like two little scarlet ducks upon the brim. 


Then the bird came slowly stalking, 

A philosopher out walking. 

And he spied the shoes as quick as anything : 
Quicklj'' caught one up and straightway, 
Flew off through the palace gateway. 

Never stopping till he took it to the king. 


This young Ptolemy the Second, 

As the bird had rightly reckoned. 

Had looked up and down the kingdom for a queen : 
But he found none to 
There, or in the land 
And he 


118 




He was tired out and sleeping, 

While his drowsy slaves were keeping 
From off his royal head the naughty flies. 
But he raised his hand the minute 
That he felt the slipper in it, 

And called out: “Why, bless my 
stars!” in great surprise. 


Now, then, by my lady Isis, 

This brings matters to a crisis!” 
And he sprang up with the sandal 
in his hand. 

“Bring the owner of this slipper, 
And I vow by the Big Dipper, 

I will make her queen of Egypt’s 
mighty land.” 


119 



Then the bird, still undetected, 

Found the girl, as he expected. 

Ever hunting up and down to find her 
shoe: 

And her cheeks were red with weeping, 
Like two crimson roses peeping 
On some early summer morning from the 
dew. 



Said he: “Wear the one you’ve found, 
dear. 

We shall find the mate around here.” 
And with that, with one shoe off and one 
shoe tied. 

Forth he coaxed her, limping, crying. 
Till the king, her face 
espying. 

Galloped forth with all his 
court to claim his 
bride. 



120 



Sandolphon’s Roses 

The Sabbath firewoman came ; 

A dusty, bent, old, Gentile dame. 

From eve to eve no pious Jew 
May fire touch or blaze renew. 

And so she laid the burning sticks 
And tipped with light the candle wicks : 

For two were lit this sacred night 
To cast twin shadows through the light. 

A sign, as all of Judah know 
That angels triumph here below. 

His painted lamb young Joseph led 
To Sabbath rest beneath his bed. 


121 



he put away his toys, 
the shouts of other 


heart beat fast ; and Oh, 
to break his bonds and go ! 


But then he knelt and bent his head 
And heard the ancient Talmud read : 


How great Sandolphon, angel wise, 

Bends down to take the prayers that rise. 



And changes them to roses 
sweet 

To lay before Jehovah’s feet. 

Next day, at dawn, the hoy 
arose 

And dressed himself in festal 
clothes. 


122 





Then, breakfastless he sped away 
Toward the synag:o5:ue to pray. 


There, with 
The 


Edged 
As 


looked and 
Law 

which rang 
sang. 


And never more on Sabbath day 
Had Joseph any wish to stray ; 

J ev’ry night when prayers were said 
olphon gathered roses red. 





Ben and Bath ran down the path : 
They called to him and sought her. 
But who could run like Simon’s son 
And Levi’s little daughter? 


A whiskered mouse looked from his 
house, 

And saw them, without telling ; 

A.nd on they went where they were sent 
To Old Reh Joseph’s dwelling. 

The house so high ’most reached the sky, 
Ben Simon looked and wondered. 



124 



125 





thine eyes, 

one! 

you come, where must you go? 
soul, dost thou not know? 
can I tell thee. Heaven -wise, 

Little son, little son? 

The dent of angel finger tip 
Little one, little one. 

The seal of thy forgetfulness 
Of other worlds, we may not guess, 

Is still upon thy tender lip 
Little son, little son. 

The secrets thou mayst not reveal 
Little one, little one. 

Until the time thy lips are free 
And Israel may speak through thee, 

When Grod shall take away the seal . 

Little son, little son. 




126 



Spain 



Yes, Mister, Yes 


I asked a little Spanish maid 
To tread the dance with me. 

As with her pretty fan she played. 
She smiled: “Si, senor, si.” 


I looked around. What should I seel 
I knew not, I confess. 

She saw my doubt, and said in glee : 
“That means, ‘Yes, mister, yes’.” 



’Tis easy, as you will agree, 
A Spanish word to guess. 
You spell it “si” and call 
And mean: “Yes, mister. 


B&.by Belldw Dancing^ 



With, castanets and tamborine, 
And dark eyes gaily glancing, 

The fairest sight in Spain, I ween, 
Is Isabella dancing. 


To watch her twinkling, slippered 
feet. 

Is surely quite entrancing ; 

With step so light and bow so sweet, 
Is Baby Bella dancing. 


In petticoat of yellow gauze 
And scarlet sash advancing, 
I cannot look away because 
My little girl is dancing. 


A scarf of lace is on her head, 
Her roguish smile enhancing ; 

I’d let her have my heart, instead 
Of common floors for dancing ! 


128 



When forth, upon his hobbyhorse, 
Came riding Senor Juan. 

“Oh, I’m a Matador,” he cried, 

“The bravest one in Spain; 

For when I fall I do not cry. 

But jump right up again.” 



129 



“I’ll ride up to that bossy now 
And scare her so she’ll run, 

And shake my spear and scarlet cape, 
And chase her just for fun.” 

The little cow with crumpled horn 
Was standing lost in thought. 

And did not know, until he came. 
That she was to be fought. 

“Look out old brindle boss,” he cried 
“I ride to fight with you ! ” 


130 


And then she turned and looked around, 
And gave a long, long “moo.” 

So dreadful was the sound, the horse 
Reared high and ran with speed, 

And left Don Juan upon the ground 
In sorry plight indeed. 

His scarlet cape was in the dust 
His hat was in the mud, 

But while he sobbed the little cow 
Serenely chewed her cud. 



131 



The Little Workers 

Milk white oxen yoked with roses 
Draw his cart of fruit and posies 
And the wheels go creak -a-creak. 
Dew wet, purple grapes he’s bringing, 
And from far you hear the singing 
Of the merry little Greek: 


“Olives, olives, oil and wine, 

Fruit of shrub and tree and vine/’ 



132 




This young market man is seven ; 

But his sister is eleven. 

She keeps house and sews and weaves ; 
And the small ones hear her saying, 

While with dolls and hoops they’re playing, 
In the door yard, in the leaves : 


‘Needle, needle, glance and shine, 
Clothe these brothers dear, of m ne.’ 





133 


1 





Swiftly, lightly, on il^y go 
WTiile the torches hl^^e and glow. 
Like dark banners in: the air, 
Wildly stream theirlj&ning hair. 
Goal and prize are bliil for one : 
Run, O little maiden%,run ! 


Like a flock of doves they fly; 
Like a white cloud blowing by : 
She who lays her torch, aflame, 
On the goal will win the game. 
Groal and prize are but for one : 
Run, O little maidens; run! 




<9 







The Kid From Hymettus 


“We’ll come,” said a kid from Hymettus, 
“And play with the rest, if you’ll let us. 
We’ll feel just as blue 
As our mountains, if you 
And the Kids of all Colors forget us!” 


136 



Sc^jTJi America 


iicA of^Peni 


girljU^wn in Peru, 

^ proud and vain, 
Becaus^er ancestors, she knew, 
Were princes whom Pizarro slew. 
When he came down from Spain. 


The Incas were the kings, you know. 
Descended from the sun : 

Or, so they thought, long, long ago. 
Before the dreadful overthrow 
By Spanish hands begun. 


Some people understood her well ; 

But others seemed to think 
That she had really meant to tell, 
Down in that land where Incas dwell. 
That she was made of ink ! 



137 





She lived upon a mountain high, 

Where once the sea had swept. 

And you would laugh, if you could spy, 
Wien e’er you’d ride your burro by. 
The toys she found and kept. 


A funny fossil was her doll ; 
It once had been a fish. 






This happy little Inca girl, 

Who was not made of ink. 

Had bouncing halls of solid pearl ; 

And all the jumping ropes she’d whirl 
Were strings of coral, pink. 


Whene’er she wanted to invite 
Her little friends to tea. 

She’d give them sweets on shells so white. 
And never washed a dish at night. 

But threw them in the sea ! 




JRKEY 


The Pasha Zad 

A Turkish lad, the pasha zad, 
Knew nought of Greek or Latin ; 
But he could play around all day, 
In trousers, blue, of satin. 


About his waist was tied with taste, 
A sash to hold his dagger ; 

And while in school in gay Stamboul, 
He learned to brag and swagger. 


A fez of red was on his head. 

But where the girls were flocking, 
His hat so soft he never doffed — 
Were not his manners shocking? 



14(7 



Fatirndk. Shopping 

Fatima went to buy a doll 
Of one old turbaned Turk, 

Who kept a funny little stall, 

But never kept a clerk. 

And there she saw such splendid things, 
Such masks and shoes and beasts, 

And rolling hoops and kites and rings, 
She gazed and could not cease. 

And then a strange, strange thing befell. 
It almost makes me smile ^ 

What she had wished she could not tell. 
So bought a crocodile. 


143 



When Greek Meets Turk 

If you were a little Greek, 

And I were a little Turk, 

I’d have a scolloped scimeter 
And you would have a dirk ; 

We’d never play, but fight all day. 
And never, never work ; 

If you were just a little Greek, 

And I a little Turk. 


142 



In the Tree Top 


A little brown baby of Guam 
Was swung on the bough of a palm ; 
But the wind rocked him high 
And he managed to cry : 

“Stop! Stop! For this gives me a qualm 


148 




Silly 


Miss Goo Lee, of the Philippines, 

Turned up her nose at pork and h 
Indeed she very often said 
That she could eat no food but bread. 

But sad, indeed, that it was so. 

She had no yeast, she had no dough. 

Or stove of iron, stone or tin. 

Or any thing to cook things in. 

Still, with the flower in her hand, 

A very flne and fragrant brand. 

Into the sea she took a plunge. 

Then proudly came and set a sponge. 

Miss Goo Lee, of Manila’s isle, 

Sat down and watched a long, long while : 
But when it did not rise, she sighed. 

And being very hungry, cried. 

Just then a soldier stopped and said 
“You silly girl, look over head!” 

For she was crying, don’t you see? 

For bread beneath a bread fruit tree. 


Filipino Slumber Song 

O, pigeon of the forest, 

Fold close thy weary wings ; 

Thy nest is ready for thee, 

Thy mother waits and sings : 
Paloma ha-lum’-tano. 

Thy mother croons and sings. 

The nonak and kilulu, 

Theii’ great green branches wave ; 
Before thee wait the waters 
Thy tender feet to lave. 

Paloma ha-lum’-tano, 

Thy tender feet to lave. 

The little flying foxes 
Are in the leaves asleep : 

The bronze and azure lizards 
With padded toes now creep : 
Paloma ha-lum’-tano, 

0, cooing wood dove, sleep! 



The awkward squad fell into line 
And marched with steps unsteady, 
To learn the manual of arms 
From brave Lieutenant Teddy. 


“Attention!” called the officer 
In tones as loud as thunder, 

And little Billee Stumbleheels 
His broom stick dropped in wonder. 





Advance ! Right face ! and eyes to front ! 
And never mind the weather. 

Put down your hands, hold back your 
chins. 

And click your heels together.” 


146 


Now shoulder arms ! Don’t be so slow, 
Just when I speak begin it. 

Now Billee Stumbleheels, you pick 
Your rifle up, this minute ! 

“Present arms, now, I guess that’s next. 

Right shoulder shift and carry!” 

“I think we’ll take the prize for drill,” 
Said Color -sergeant Harry. 

Then Teddy gave a fearful frown. 

And raised his voice up higher. 

And all the soldiers shook to hear : 
“Now ready ! aim, and fire ! ’ ’ 



147 





Slumber Son^ 

Two little hands may patacake, patacake, 
Two baby eyes with laughter glow. 

Two httle bands may soothe an ache, soothe 
an ache, 

Brooding deep in a heart I know. 


Never a rose as sweet as this, sweet as this. 
In all the garden here can grow. 

Naught in a breast can he much amiss^ much 
amiss. 

Under the cheek that nestles so. 


149 



Under the Tamarack Trees 

A cotton doll, a cornhusk doll, 

And a lovely doll of wax, 

And two had hair of cornsilk fine, 
And one had curls of flax. 

But all the three 
Sat down to tea 
Beneath the tamaracks. 


Three little girls were there beside 
To keep them all polite. 

And one was black and one was red 
And one was fair and white 
And each of these 
Said “thanks” and “please” 
And held their forks quite right. 


150 




The cotton doll was very droll, 

She could not laugh or blink, 

The corn husk rustled all the while, 
Which was not nice, I think. 

In melting mood 
But never rude 
Was little Waxy Pink. 



151 


The Mechanical Pu£( 

The mechanical pug, 

By the playroom rug, 

Was very, very cross. 

Though he’d run all right. 

If he wished to bite 
He felt quite at a loss. 

But to be the toy 
Of a naughty boy 
Was really too much grief. 
When the Yankee, cute. 

Who designed the brute. 

Had given him no teeth. 



152 



The Comical Cocoanut 

A comical cocoanut grew on a tree, 
Down South in a lonesome nook ; 

I feel so funny inside,” said he. 

That funny I ought to look.” 

And then for a joke he tumbled down 
And cracked a traveler on the crown. 


The comical cocoanut met his match, 

(A similar cocoanut,) 

Except with a different kind of thatch. 
And face that was clearly cut. 

“Oho,” said the Nut, “You are my ideal; 
You look as comical as I feel.” 


Then the Yankee took the palm tree elf. 
And sat in a shady place : 

“I’ll give you a humorous phiz, yourself,” 
He said as he carved its face. 





“I Spy” 

I like the game “I spy,’’ 

Except the time I’m “It,” 

And then I feel so tired 
It isn’t fun, a bit. 

It makes us feel so nervous 
To stand up in a row. 

And see which one will get it 
In “Enee-meenee-mo.” 

If I’m the last she touches, 

I have to stay and blind. 

And when they halloo: “Ready i” 
Each one I seek and find. 


But some are in the orchard, 
And some in bush or hole. 

And while I’m hunting for them 
Some other steals the goal. 

I have to count a hundred 
Before I dare to see 
Which way the others scamper, 
To house or barn or tree. 

And I feel just so tired 
I don’t know where to go ; 

But stand up to be counted 
With “Enee, meenee, mo.” 




the World 

The whistle blows, 

station. 

This is the day th^l Johnnie goes 
To visit ev’ry nation. 


It will not take him ninety days, 
But only just a minute, 

To make the trip, and so he says 
He thinks he’d best begin it. 


The study globe is on the floor, 
The choo-choo cars are able 
To go around the world before 
His supper’s on the table. 


“Toot, toot, too-too!” Now all aboard 
For European travel ! 

This train can cross the sea and ford 
As well as run on gravel. 


156 


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